


That Gut Feeling

by MariaVT



Series: Clumsy Stiles [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clumsy Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Family Fluff, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, It's really just fluff, M/M, POV Sheriff Stilinski, Protective Derek Hale, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stilinski Family Feels, no actual violence occurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 08:43:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17383370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaVT/pseuds/MariaVT
Summary: John has an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach; it’s the same feeling he gets when he speaks with a suspect he knows is guilty. But this time the feeling isn’t coming from a random suspect, it’s coming from his own son.





	That Gut Feeling

On Friday afternoon the door banged open, then closed again before Stiles speed walked toward his room with the hood of his red sweatshirt pulled all the way up and over most of his face.

 

“Whoa kid.” John spoke, looking up from his files. “Where’s the fire?” Stiles stopped dead in his tracks, his back and shoulders rigid, and angled his head only slightly in John’s direction.

 

“I just have a lot of homework to get through.” Stiles tightened the grip on the strap of his bag where it hung on his shoulder, shifting toward his room again.

 

“Stiles.” He turned on his Sheriff voice. “Look at me.” After a long sigh Stiles turned to face his father, a dark bruise blooming over his right cheekbone. John was on his feet before he even made the conscious decision to stand. “What the hell happened?” He snarled.

 

“Dad I’m fine, I just fell earlier.” Stiles kept shifting his gaze and John felt that familiar cold twist in his gut; the one he felt when he knew a suspect was guilty.

 

“Are you lying to me?” His voice was cold and quiet.

 

“What? No!” Stiles eyes snapped up and for a moment they were full of an intense fury that startled the older man, but years of police work kept him from reacting. “Of course I’m not lying to you, I fell.” He closed his eyes and took a long measured breath in and out of his nose. “I’m going to do my homework.” He turned and walked out of the room without waiting for a response.

 

 

An hour later John couldn’t focus on any of the work he was supposed to be getting done; he just couldn’t get the image of his kid with such a deep bruise out of his head. It’s fall semester so it didn’t happen at lacrosse, and he hadn’t been notified by the school of a trip to the nurse. So where the hell did that bruise come from?

 

The doorbell interrupted his thoughts and before he could stand Stiles came bolting out of his room, his socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor as he swung around the corner without slowing.

 

“I got it!” Stiles called as he flung the front door open, Derek Hale stood on the other side. As soon as the door was no longer a barrier Derek crowded into Stiles’ space, wrapping an arm around his waist and rubbing his cheek over Stiles’ neck, mumbling something into his throat the Sheriff couldn’t quite catch. Stiles clung to the older man’s shoulders running a hand softly through the hair on the back of Derek’s head and smiling before pulling back enough for a chaste kiss.

 

Once they untangled, Stiles towed Derek toward the kitchen with their fingers intertwined, but Derek stopped short. He handed a bag to Stiles and extended his newly free hand to John. “How are you, sir?” Derek offered a polite smile.

 

“Derek, how many times do I have to tell you to call me John?” He asked, brow lifted. “But I’m fine son, how’ve you been?”

 

“I’m good, I brought dinner if you’re hungry.” Derek allowed Stiles to pull him the rest of the way to the kitchen, with John following behind them.

 

Stiles was chattering a mile a minute about the paper he was currently working on for his history class as Derek watched him with a fond expression. Stiles was moving all over the kitchen opening take out containers and pulling out silverware as he talked with his hands, swinging whatever object he happened to be holding as he did. But when he reached for the plates from an overhead cabinet he let out a pained gasp, left hand flying to cradle his right ribs gently. Both John and Derek surged forward, out of the corner of his eye John saw a flash of red eyes and an angry curl to Derek’s lip. Stiles just waved them both away with a forced smile.

 

“Stiles?” Derek growled, sounding like his throat was full of gravel before he took a calming breath and gave Stiles a pointed look. “May I speak with you alone?” Derek walked out of the room, grabbing Stiles by the shoulder and steering him back to the bedroom. The twist in John’s gut redoubled.

 

 

The boys emerged twenty minutes later, Stiles’ face a little blotchy as though he had been crying.

“I’m fine dad.” Stiles spoke with a sniffle before John could ask the question, which did nothing to calm that uneasy feeling.

 

 

After dinner John turned on a baseball game with the TV muted, but mostly he was listening for anything odd coming from the bedroom down the hall. Nothing notable had occurred in the time the boys were in there, when they finally emerged Stiles had his lacrosse bag over his shoulder.

 

“I’m going to stay at Derek’s for the weekend.” Stiles spoke offhandedly and John’s gaze zeroed in on Derek’s hand where it was wrapped around the back of Stiles’ neck. He must have hesitated too long because Stiles shifted and cleared his throat. “I really am fine dad and we have an agreement; Derek has left the house before nine on all school nights so I get to spend the weekend with him.” There was a defensive edge to his tone.

 

“Yeah I know.” John sighed. “Well, be safe boys. Derek I expect you to have him back here by nine on Sunday.” His tone was a little more serious than usual but Derek rolled with it.

 

“Of course sir.” Derek gave him a smile before they headed to the door, his hand still clamped firmly on Stiles' neck.

 

 

After a very tense weekend Stiles came home on Sunday evening with a bruise peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeve and John snapped at the sight of it. He strode across the room and yanked the sleeve up, easily making out the individual fingers with claw marks from where he had been grabbed with a tremendous amount of force.

 

“Dad, I’m okay-.” Stiles started.

 

“Bullshit Stiles, this is not okay. Sit down at the table.” John got ice out of the freezer and took a moment to calm himself, knowing that being combative can make domestic violence victims clam up very quickly. He returned to the dining room and handed the ice to Stiles before sitting down. “Stiles,” He spoke softly. “Is Derek hurting you?” Stiles eyes flew wide and he started sputtering.

 

“What the actual hell are you talking about?” Stiles still seemed gob smacked.

 

“Well kid, you come home Friday with one hell of a shiner and you wouldn’t be straight with me about how you got it. Then you act like you have broken ribs when you reached into the cabinet later that night. And today you have a nasty bruise in the shape of Derek’s hand on your arm. Not to mention how angry he looked when you showed pain in front of me, he asks to speak to you privately and you come back crying, then he steered you out of here by the neck at the end of the night like you’re his property.” John scrubbed a hand over his face. “Help me out here Stiles, because to a cop, that looks like some compelling evidence pointing toward domestic violence.”

 

“Oh my god dad.” Stiles put his head in his hands. “I wasn’t straight with you on Friday because I was embarrassed.” Stiles ran his fingers roughly through his hair making it stick up unevenly. “Scott and I were walking through the woods before school when I tripped over my own feet and went down hard on some roots. Derek looked mad that I was in pain because he was mad; he hates seeing me hurt, he starts blaming himself and getting all grumpy even if he wasn’t the cause of my pain.” Stiles heaved a sigh. “He asked me to leave the room to take my pain away, sometimes when he does that all the endorphins make me very emotional, so he was sparing me from having to cry in front of my dad like a blubbering baby. Oh and he had his hand on my neck to scent me, when I get injured his instincts to protect go crazy and he rubs his scent on me, and mine on him, to keep us both calm. Trust me dad, Derek would rather claw his own eyes out than hurt me.” Stiles huffed a laugh.

 

“Alright say I believe you. What about your arm?” John pointed to the ice pack as Stiles’ ears turned pink.

 

“While we were leaving the loft I was distracted and almost fell down the stairs. Derek had to catch me.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his eyes lowered.

 

“How in the hell do you get that distracted?” John shook his head.

 

“Derek and I were kissing and I couldn’t focus on my feet.” The blush on his ears spread to his neck and cheeks. “He was actually really upset that he pricked my arm with his claws, he definitely didn’t want to let me go, he kept crowding me and taking my pain. Look dad, I know you worry about me because I’m your kid and you think Derek is too old for me and him being a werewolf makes you nervous. But you don’t ever have to worry about Derek hurting me, he’s done nothing but protect me and care for me since long before we started dating.” Stiles gave a small smile. John took a long breath.

 

“You love him, don’t you?” Stiles blushed even deeper.

 

“I think so. We haven’t said those words, Derek can struggle with talking about his feelings sometimes so I don’t push him, but it definitely feels like love.” A beautiful smile spread across Stiles face, reaching his eyes that shone brightly with happiness.

 

“I raised a pretty great kid.” John ruffled Stiles hair fondly.

 

“Yeah, I guess I turned out okay.” Stiles winked and stood to take the ice pack back to the freezer.

 

“Um, Stiles.” John started, speaking to the floor.

 

“Yeah pops?” He called back over his shoulder.

 

“Do you think maybe we could keep this between us? You know, not tell Derek about it?” He rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“Oh no can do, I am going to milk this one for all it’s worth. Derek will be so guilty that he’ll be over here all the time with dinner and beer for you to try and convince you that he isn’t going to harm your dear sweet child.” Stiles clutched a hand to his chest. “He will have to show a great display to defend my honor and the honor of this household.” He moved the back of his hand to his forehead and swooned.

 

“I take it back.” John sighed. “You’re the worst kid in the world." Stiles strode toward his room cackling madly and brandishing his phone with a flourish before lifting it to his ear.

 

“Hey babe, you’re never going to guess what my dad just said.” Stiles closed his bedroom door thankfully cutting off John’s ability to hear that conversation. He settled back at the dining room table with his paperwork and snorted at himself for even considering the possibility of Stiles being a silent victim. If something was wrong Stiles would be shouting it from the rooftops and exacting his sick and twisted revenge.

 

Sometimes John doesn’t understand Stiles at all, and sometimes he can’t read a thing on his face but for the first time in days the knot in his stomach loosens and he finally feels like he can breathe again.


End file.
